


The SHARPest Lives

by jayler



Category: Cobra Starship, My Chemical Romance, Sharp International
Genre: Cheerleaders, M/M, cheerleading, dance, it's okay tho, no one knows who skyler or jayden are, think of them as original characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayler/pseuds/jayler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skyler Sharp has a secret: away from his life as a touring cheerleader for SHARP International, he is Frank, the lead guitarist in one of the world's most popular rock bands. His mother is Stacy Sharp, owner of the world-sweeping SHARP, and the pressure to follow in his mother's footsteps and inherit the family fortune is almost unbearable. Skyler is forced to choose between the two most important things in his life: his family and his passion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! it's vanessa ( @jaydenfucker69 on instgram ),,, this is going to be a regular fic, but i don’t have a schedule for posting chapters or anything. THIS CHAPTER GOES OUT TO SKYLER SHARP! you know you’re out there,,,, sweaty,,,, (:::

Skyler Evan Maximillion Lewis Sharp III was royally fucked.

His fingers brushed a bead of sweat off of the back of his neck and he focused on his heart pumping in his ears.

“Come on, Sky!” A pitchy voice called from the corner. He took a shuddery breath and flexed his back. 

“Hell yes! Go. You can do it!” Rose. That was Rose. He squeezed his eyes tight and willed the voices to fade.

Okay. He was going to flip. He could do shit like this. 

He opened his eyes, gasped in a lungful of air, and kicked his legs out from underneath him. 

The directions replayed in his head. He was flying out of the stunt, suspended in midair, and his eyes were shut, locked in a flurry of movement. 

Okay. Okay.

He had to let gravity do this. He had this in his muscle memory, right? He tucked his knees into his chest and extended his arms. 

Bam.

His palms slammed onto the mat, and he kicked his legs into a straight line.

He opened his eyes.

Rose’s tight brunette ponytail was swung as she jumped up and down, shrieking in high-pitched frequencies that Skyler was sure only dogs could hear. He bent backwards and bounced onto his feet.

“You did it. Oh my god. I told you you could do it, Skyler!” She screeched. “Look at me. Hey.” Her tone softened as she placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“You can do this. I promise you.”

He displayed what he hoped looked like confident smile, carding a hand through his wet hair. “I know.”

 

// 

 

“Mom.” Skyler called, only half-expecting her to respond. 

Stacy Sharp was craned over her desk, pounding at her polished red keyboard. Skyler buried his nose in his sleeve. Her office smelled strongly of weird sweet peppermint perfume. 

“Mom.” He whined louder, resting his elbow against the doorway. “Hello?”

“Hi.” She took a deep breath, eyes lingering on the computer screen. “One sec.” 

He rolled his eyes, huffing loudly. “This is fast.”

“Okay.” She tapped a few keys with a satisfied flourish and turned to him. “What’s up?”

Skyler thought his mother tried too hard. Stacy Sharp had had a perpetual distracted determination in her eyes, and her painted crimson lips turned up into a slight smile. A thick layer of foundation coated her naturally freckled face, and her eyes were lined in black kohl that flicked off in wings. Her eyes were green and flecked with gold and resembled cat’s irises. She was the owner and manager of SHARP Cheerleading International and she meant business. 

Skyler shook his head and took a deep breath.

“Uh. I did the Flip-Walkover Stunt. Like. I did it successfully.” 

She smiled brightly, her cheekbones lifting.

“That’s perfect, honey. You should be able to do it by next Saturday.”

His heart jolted. “Next Saturday. In front of the whole crowd?”

“Yes. We need it for the Awards Ceremony Performance.”

“But. Mom. I don’t know if―”

“Shh. You’re going to do it.” She said decisively. “No complaining, Sky.”

He sighed, flicking his eyes at the ceiling. “Fine.” He drawled as bitchily as possible.

“Don’t give me attitude, Skyler.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Mom.” He narrowed his eyes, turning around. “See you tonight.” He slammed the door behind him.

 

//

 

“Let’s say hello to Rose! She’s a champion.” A loud female voice crowed over the gym speakers. Rose twirled a lock of chocolatey hair around her finger and blew a kiss at the crowd. She lifted her hands above her head and flipped several times, landing on her feet and spinning into a backbend. The mats were filled with dozens of cheer teams, and they applauded, impressed. 

“And let’s say hi to Skyler! He’s our youngest cheerleader here!” 

Youngest cheerleader. Skyler was 16 years old, 17 this Thursday, and the pressure was too real. 

He pulled his signature grin, tilting his head back and pressing a peace-sign to his cheek. He was fucking adorable. He sped forward and tucked his knees into his chest, flipping over himself twice and landing in a Perfect Split™. 

He could hear the 8th and 9th graders freaking the hell out. That made him very very uncomfortable. He was in 11th grade. His 17th birthday was Wednesday. These girls were, what? Thirteen? Fourteen? He shook his head to clear the thoughts and smiled wider. 

“Aaaaaand let’s give a warm welcome to Morgan!” Mara, the commentator for SHARP events, drawled smoothly. Skyler let her voice buzz into his brain, and she announced Jackie and Ryan and Carly and Josh and he mindlessly watched the twirling forms elicit gasps and cheers from the teams on the mats. He had to stay here and smile like an idiot every Saturday night and pretend to be excited when a high school team won first place or be charmed when the elementary teams performed their tiny trophy stunts. He had to grin at everyone and take pictures with the gushing teenage cheerleaders and their painted pink lips and heavy makeup and short skirts that they tugged on whenever they were around him. 

And he had to pretend to like it.

 

//

 

“Hi, oh my God, hi!” A blonde cheerleader clad in red, white, and blue bubbled, grinning at him. “Hi, whoa, you were so good out there.” She sighed dreamily.

“Thank you.” He beamed brightly, struggling to sound genuine. 

“Yeah, I, ye-ah.” She smiled, her voice cracking as she tightened her ponytail. “Can I get a picture with you?”

“Of course.” He cringed and hoped she didn’t notice the sarcasm as she shoved her phone in their faces. His cheekbones ached from his perpetual sugary grin. 

Seven more girls got pictures with him that night. Seven. At 7:00 the teams cleared out, shiny plastic trophies under arms, and Skyler sighed and his smile shattered on the floor. 

The sun looked fake and pink and pretty. He piled Rose into his white SHARP van that he didn’t bother to wash. That was his one gesture of dismissiveness towards his work. He’d rather not be driving around in a clean shiny van with SHARP INTERNATIONAL on it in big blocky black letters that everyone could read. His mom didn’t care, or didn’t notice. Probably both. 

Rose would not shut up on the drive home, so Skyler pulled a Tune Her Out And Stare Emotionally Out The Window™ on her. He was grateful when they pulled in front of her tiny downtown house, and she clambered out of the car and said something about “seeing you next Saturday, good luck! And happy birthday! Soon! I think! On Thursday!”

He resisted the urge to Back Walkover Triple Flip her into the street.


	2. Chapter 2

“Wake up. Wake up. Skyler. Skyler. Wake up. You gotta. You gotta. Wake up.” A muffled voice screeched from Skyler’s nightstand. He groaned into his pillow.

“Wake up. Wake up. Skyler. Skyler. Wake up. You gotta. You gotta. Wake up.” Stacy Sharp’s voice blared from his nightstand again. 

“Shit.” He grunted, rolling over and slamming the snooze button on his alarm.

His mom was always away on business trips or left before he woke up, so she decided recording herself repeating the words “wake up” in varying degrees of intensity and setting it as his alarm was a sweet motherly gesture.

He had five blissful minutes before the alarm went off again.

“Wake up. Wake up. Skyler. Skyler. Wake up. You gotta. You gotta. Wake up.” The recording said loudly.

“Shut up.” He told it.

“Wake up. Wake up. Skyler. Skyler. Wake up. You gotta. You gotta. Wake up.” It repeated.

He sat up and threw the alarm across the room.

Skyler ran a hand through the bleached hair on the top of his head. He let it trail to the shaved, jet black hair on the sides. Right. He was _Skyler Sharp_. This was school. This was just school.

It shouldn’t make him anxious. 

He pulled on a collared uniform shirt and sighed.

The truth was, school made him anxious _because_ he was Skyler Sharp.

It made him anxious because he could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes pinned on him when he walked through a hallway, and when he entered a classroom or bathroom or any room in the entire damn school. And when some kid asked him to tumble and he didn’t want to flip because he was tired and didn’t want to get in trouble, but he couldn’t make excuses, and--

He sighed. 

And when someone asked him about _The SHARP Fortune™_ and “are you scared to inherit it?” in their high-pitched, whiny drawls, and when kids asked him to sign things or wanted to take pictures with him or be their friend, and he wanted to crawl into a corner and be a normal kid.

His mom was internationally known.

She managed all of SHARP and cheered at Dodgers games and performed on _America’s Got Talent_.

His grandma, Robyn Sharp, had _created_ the company, and she was like the Queen of England or something. She scared the shit out of every SHARP employee, and they were stiff around her. 

And Skyler. He’d started dancing at ten, in 2010. His mom coached him and controlled, like, every aspect of his life. He was almost 17. He should be able to do what _he_ wanted to, like a normal rebellious, defiant teen.

His wealth and the popularity of SHARP made him an idol in his 10th grade class. School, even.

The girls on the cheer team fawned over him. The theater boys wanted him to dance in their plays. The teachers seemed to excuse any trouble he got into with the phrase, “He’s Skyler Sharp.” 

Skyler was miserable.

He didn’t like being in the spotlight, and when everyone clapped for him and watched him with a perfect view of any mistake he could possibly make it made him want to vomit.

His train of thought crashed, and he shook his head.

He bounded out of his room and into the bathroom, where he spent an hour with a bottle of gel, perfecting the FINE QUIFF™ of his hair. It looked good as fuck when he left.

Sky grabbed a granola bar and a Gatorade on his way out of the house. He had some strange eating habits.

 

//

 

“Sky! Prom is coming up!” Gabe called from across the yard. Sky scrunched his eyes closed and ignored him.

“Skyler!” Gabe said again, apparently not able to take a hint. He followed Skyler around. A lot. He sprinted over to Skyler.

“Who are you taking to prom?” He asked breathlessly, winking unattractively.

Skyler gave Gabe some major stink-eye. “Uh, _not you_.”

“Okay, but we could go as, like, a _friend_ thing, it doesn’t have to be romantic—”

“Gabe, you’re a flaming homosexual.”

Gabe glared at him. “Just because I’m Gay AF™ doesn’t mean I’m into _every_ guy I meet.” He said pointedly.

“Okay, I believe you.” Skyler raised his hands in surrender. “But I don’t think I’m going to prom.”

Gabe choked and fell over. “What the _fuck_?”

“Yeah. It’s not my thing.”

“I fucking hate you. I hate you! Shut up!” Gabe screeched, panicked.

“What? Why?” Skyler was alarmed.

“You can't _not go to prom_. That’s illegal. You can't do that! You can't drop out of your high school experience, what the hell!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not interested in prom.” Sky mumbled.

“Why? Because you think no one will ask you? Because that’s not true. Everyone’s gonna ask you to prom. I’ll ask you to prom if no one else does.”

Skyler grimaced at the words. That was true. Everyone was going to ask him to prom. He mentally prepared a list of responses he’d use to turn people down.

“ _Skyler_.” Gabe grabbed his arm. “There has to be _someone_ you want to go with. Like. Like Lindsay.”

Skyler cringed. Lindsay was a loud, dark-haired cheerleader who wore enough eyeliner for 50 emos. Tacky music note tattoos littered her pale arms (seriously? Music notes?). The metal ring through her nose made her look like a pretty cow.

If Skyler was the Popularity King™ of the high schoolers, Lindsay was the queen. It was a classic, stereotypical, popular high school cliché.

“Not Lindsay.” Skyler shuddered. “No.”

“Okay.” Gabe nodded, biting his lip in thought.

“But. I mean. Skyler. There are tons of Hot Chicks™ in this school.”

Skyler shook his head. “That’s not necessarily what I’m looking for.”

Gabe smiled. “I tried, man. I’ll always ask you to prom if you don’t have a date.”

 

The day flew by in a blur of information and loud voices and the same routine that Skyler had endured through his three years of middle school, and two of high school. He probably didn’t need school anyways. His future was set for him. He was Skyler Sharp.

That was becoming a motif in his mind.

Tuesday and Wednesday passed as filler days. He went to school because he had to, and learned the information because he had to, and he tried not to care.

And then Thursday was there and he woke up and 5:00 and stared emo-ly out the window.

He was 17 years old.

Already.

He had to get out of the house before his parents freaked out and started telling him “another year closer to becoming the owner of SHARP!”

He slipped into his uniform and out of the house before anyone woke up.

No one noticed.

The sun was still rising when he sprinted out on the street. It twisted over the hills and he stared at it all stoically. He would walk to school today.

His earlier birthdays had been enjoyable for him, and he’d celebrated them like any other kid. But his past few birthdays, 14, 15, 16, were centered around the fact that he was getting closer to inheriting the SHARP fortune. Every birthday activity was centered around “training you, to prepare for when you own SHARP!” or “helping you learn to organize and manage money” or “telling you how to judge a cheerleading team, for when you inherit SHARP someday!” He was a teenager. He wanted to do normal teenage, illegal stuff and go to teenager parties and talk about #teenagertroubles. He didn’t like being reminded that he was going to _own SHARP International_ one day. He didn’t know how to do that.

 

//

 

“Hiiii! Skyyyy!” Jayden Rivera’s bubblegum pink Volkswagen Beetle screeched to a stop in front of the parking lot. 

“Heyyyy! Jayyyy!” Skyler greeted him customarily. 

“So.” Jay swung open the door and hopped out glamorously. “17. How does it feel?”

“Uh. The same.” Skyler shrugged.

“Come on. You can’t say that.” Jay jogged over to him and punched his arm lightly. “You have to talk about how you feel _so_ much older and more responsible.” 

“Okay.” Sky agreed. “I, uh. Feel like. I’m a lot more mature.”

“That’s the spirit.” Jay smiled, patting Skyler’s back.

Jay Rivera was, like, a _treasure._

A) He was really nice and called everyone “bud,”

B) He had an aesthetically pleasing Instagram feed,

C) He had chocolate frappe mocha colored skin and curly, short black hair (he was REALLY HOT™)

D) He had the CUTEST FUCKING SMILE and these little diamond earrings and really good eyebrows,

And

E) He was just a gr8 guy all around.

He was totally Skylers #mce, or Man Crush Everyday. 

Skyler snapped out of his Gay Daze™, shaking his head. 

“So. How have you been?” He asked Jay politely.

“Good. Your grandma’s been pretty rough on me, though.” Jay laughed. _Right_. Jay was training as Skyler’s apprentice at SHARP. He always seemed to forget that. Maybe because Jay was one of the few people that Skyler actually treated with respect.

//

English class was a drag, mostly because he couldn’t think for one second without being interrupted by screeches of, “Skylllllleeeeer! Happy birthday!” from passing classmates. He rolled his eyes. These kids needed to get a _life._

Skyler hated school (he was a kool punk), but today he was reluctant to leave. He knew as soon as he got home his family would fucking bombard him, and his stomach knotted with anxiety at that. He took a deep breath, said something to Jay about seeing him tomorrow, and tightened his backpack straps. _Shit._

His walk home was numb. The sun was setting, and it was warm and beat down on his uniform shirt. He sighed emo-ly, closing his eyes. The few minutes of peace he had before he went home were precious.

“Ayyyyyyyyeee! Lmao!” A familiar voice screeched, shattering the silence. Sky tensed up. God.

“What’s up, Sharpboi?” Gabe shrieked, running up from behind Skyler and slapping him on the back, really really hard.

“I was kind of having a nice afternoon. Until you called me Sharpboi, what the fuck?” Skyler spat at him.

“Sorry. I just wanted to tell you. Uh. Pete and Taylor are planning to jump you.”

Skyler’s heart jolted. “What?” Pete and Taylor were the #ToughBoiz at Washington Valley High School. They did the alcohol and ate the marijuanas. They had been arrested!!11!!!1!1!!! 

Skyler shook his head. “This isn’t 1965? Why tho?” 

“I don’t know.” Gabe shrugged. “I think they think you have, like, a ton of money on you. Just… Just watch out.”

Skyler rolled his eyes. “Whateva. I’m strong. I can fight them.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking over Sky’s lanky limbs. 

“Um. Define strong?”

“Rood!” Skyler shoved him. “I’m a cheerleader. I am Strong™!”

Gabe nodded, a pitying smile plastered on his face. “Oookay. You’re strong.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shit gets INTENSE :)

Skyler swung the front door open as silently as possible. He heard Robyn Sharp’s soft voice in the dining room. Oh God.

But she had to have fucking bat ears or something, because she seemed to hear him as soon as he closed the door. She padded into the room, smiling up at him.

Robyn Sharp was 64 years old, but she didn’t look it. Stacy took after her in that they both wore heavy masks of makeup. Robyn’s hair was a mass of feathery, shoulder-length, bleached blonde bangs. Her lips were a perpetual plasticy pink, and her skin had a doll-like, airbrushed feel. A chill went down Skyler’s spine.

“Hi, Grandma.” He greeted her wearily.

“Skyler!” She smiled, enveloping him an a perfume-scented hug. The large silver cross around her neck pressed into his shoulder.

“How’s my future owner of SHARP?” Her voice was muffled by his shirt.

Bam. There it was.

It was a customary greeting for Sky, but it was really getting to him.

“I’m great.” He said stiffly.

“So.” She stepped back, smiling at him. “How does 17 feel?”

He wiggled his fingertips. “It feels fabulous.”

There were silent for a moment before Skyler spoke again.

“You know what? I’m going to take some 17-year-old alone time in my room.”

She nodded knowingly. “Of course. All teenage boys.”

He froze, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Do your thing, Skyler. You’re a teenage boy. Have fun.”

Oh God. He stiffened and backed into his room.

Skyler didn’t know why he needed to be alone. He realized it was more of wanting to avoid his family than actually needing emo teenage alone time.  
Most of the time when he was alone, he was texting Jay or dancing. It was true that he liked dancing. He was good at it. He could see it being his future career. But.

But.

He had another interest that he never talked about. Not even Jay, who knew basically everything, knew about it.

His dad had been a musician before he married Stacy Sharp and got into the Sharp biz. 

In Skyler’s free time, he’d sneak out to the garage and practice playing his dad’s guitar.

He taught himself. He’d been teaching himself since he was fifteen.

His dad never noticed.

Skyler felt really bad for it. It was so neglected and dusty and sad, and the only time it was useful was when Skyler was playing it.

The thing was. He’d been playing it since he was 15. For three years. And dammm, he was really, really good. He never acknowledged it, but he could be a famous guitarist or something. He had guitar fingers.

Even now, in the muffled quiet of his room, his fingers ached for the strings. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. If his family found out that he wanted to be a guitarist and not necessarily the owner of SHARP, they would literally kill him. Literally.

// 

“Skyler!” His mom’s red lips enunciated, her peppermint fragrance dizzying him. Her arms went around him, and he was locked in a Christmas-scented embrace.

“Hi, Mom.” His voice was muffled in her shirt.

She stepped back and tousled his gelled blonde hair. He cringed. She was probably messing up his FINE QUIFF™. 

“Sky.” She said, pulling him from his hair-centric trance. He looked up at her.

“Listen. I know that Grandma and I are always on your case for being the heir to SHARP and everything.” He froze. He looked up at her.

“There’s a reason. You’re my only kid, you know? You’re the only person who can take SHARP over. I know that’s a lot of pressure, but you’re the one thing that’s going to keep our business going.”

He tensed. This. Again.

“Thanks. Thank you, Mom.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you understand.” 

The rest of the night was a normal Sharp birthday. There was not another mention of The SHARP Fortune™, and Skyler ate black and white cupcakes and they played music and his dad and his mom and his grandmother were there, though the weight was still on his shoulders.

//

G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D.

G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D.

The chords turned themselves over in Skyler’s mind.

G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D.

It was Friday. The end of the week!!!1!1!! And on Fridays, he typically woke up super pumped and ready for the great day ahead.

But instead, he’d woken up with 11 chords in his brain, and they were haunting him.

G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D.

He was generally a Happie Guy™. Like, he wasn’t emo. But the notes in his head were super depressing, and each time they repeated themselves, he felt his heart blacken a little bit more.

G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D.

G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D.

G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D.

G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D.

G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D. G, F#, B, E, D, G, C, B, E, A, D.

He was going to lose his fucking mind. 

They were screaming in his head, and all he could hear was the deep ring of the piano chords buzzing into his brain.

Was this what it was like to become emo?

Was he becoming emo?

Was he being possessed by the emo spirits? Was he going to die? Was he--

Bam. 

Something smashed into his head, and the chords stopped. 

His fingers instantly darted to his head, and he looked up, bewildered. 

There was nothing there. Only the dark parallel lines of the buildings that formed the alleyway he was in. 

“Hey! Future owner of SHARP!” He heard someone scream. His head spun. What?

Skyler whipped around, staring at the entrance of the alleyway. Two thickly-lined hazel eyes stared back at him. 

Pete Wentz was an emo god. His thin black-red fringe was perpetually swept over his eyes, and he was usually adorned in all black, save for a ugly, neon magenta hoodie. 

He tugged on the strings of the hoodie now, staring at Skyler from across the path. 

“Hi, are you…?” Skyler stared at him. Why was he here? He held on to his head.

Bam.

There it was again. Something slammed into his head from above. He looked up. A pale hand waved down at him, peeking over the edge of one of the buildings above him.

He looked back at Pete, and then up again.

Just in time to watch a dark stone come plummeting down.

“What the fuck?” He called up. 

Who the hell was throwing stones at him? Who the hell had decided it would be a good idea to throw stones at Skyler Sharp?

“You can come down now, Taylor.” Pete called to the hand.

Taylor. 

Skyler froze.

Pete and Taylor are planning to jump you.

Taylor lowered herself off of the edge of the building. She let go and landed behind Skyler in a cloud of badass. 

Even Lindsay knew not to fuck with Taylor Swift. Her pale blonde curls were often tied in a tight ponytail, and she dressed like she was going to a funeral everyday. She flashed a winning smile at Skyler. 

Skyler’s heart dropped into his stomach. Pete Wentz was standing in front of him, hands on his hips. And Taylor Swift was behind him. How tall was she? 5’11”? Whatever it was, it was definitely way taller than Skyler. And despite the fact that Pete was 5’6”, between the two of them, they had 11 feet and 5 inches of intimidating emo toughness. 

“So what are you going to do? Like, jump me?” Skyler tried to laugh. Tried. He was terrified.

“Uh, yes, actually.” Taylor tightened her ponytail, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Were you, like… Why were you throwing stones at me?” He frowned, his head spinning. 

“We wanted to see what would happen if we hit your big head from above. Like, if you would fall unconscious or anything.” Taylor explained. “Luckily, your thick skull was able to deflect it.” 

Skyler’s palms were sweaty, knees weak, mom’s spaghetti. “Why… What’s the point of jumping me?”

“We want your money.” Pete said gruffly, speaking up for the first time from behind Skyler. He turned around. 

“Can’t I just give you my money? Why do you have to jump me?”

“Eh.” Pete shrugged. “It’s more fun to beat you up.”

Taylor’s thin arms were on Skyler’s, and she pushed him to the dirt, digging a heeled foot into his chest. She smiled with perfect white teeth, and her fist met his cheek.

Sky was unprepared for the impact. It knocked his face into the ground, and he tasted metallic blood on his tongue. 

“Fuck.” He grunted. 

She pinned Skyler’s arms into the dirt and looked up at Pete. “Do your thing.” She instructed him. 

The sight of Pete Wentz sweeping his fringe to the side and cracking his knuckles was too much for Skyler. He dug his feet into the dirt, desperately struggling against Taylor’s grip. 

“Hell no.” He croaked.

“Hell yes, baby.” Pete flashed him a sugary grin. The sole of his shoe brushed Skyler’s jaw.

“Let’s see how high and mighty the future owner of SHARP is now.” 

He kicked Skyler’s jaw. Hard.

“Sh-” Skyler choked, his head slamming backwards. He was silent, his eyes hot with tears. His head spun, and colors sparked in front of his eyes. Red, blue, yellow, white. He was reminded of fireworks.

Pete kicked his jaw again, and again, and again, and Skyler fell into the rhythm of the constant sting. He let out a choked sob as Taylor’s fingernails dug into his forearms. It was too much.

“Take my fucking money.” He spat. Pete landed a final kick on Skyler’s jaw.

“We’ll take your money. But it’s more satisfying to do this. You think you’re so fucking cool,” He punctuated the words with a nudge to Sky’s ribs, “But God, Skyler, you’re a spoiled brat. You know that?”

Skyler shook his head. “No, I don’t—”

“Fucking answer me.” Shit, Pete was very mentally unstable. Very mentally unstable.

“No, I—”

Pete dropped to his knees and fisted a hand in Skyler’s hair. R.I.P. his FINE QUIFF™.

“Listen, Sharp. You’re just here with me and Taylor. You can admit it.” He lowered his mouth to Skyler’s ear. “Say you’re a brat.”

Skyler closed his eyes, clinging to the last fragment of dignity he had.

“Fucking say it, you shit—” Pete was hissing, and—

“Hey!” An unfamiliar voice shouted. Skyler’s eyes shot open. They were blurred with tears, but he could make out a slender figure in black. He gasped shakily. It was probably another member of the Emo Thug Crew.

“Hey, what the fuck?” The voice called. It was thin and nasal.

“Shit.” Pete whispered. “Fuck, Tay, let’s go.”

“What?” Taylor hissed back.

“Let’s go. Fuck.” Pete stood up. “Later, Sharp.” He rammed a shoe into the side of Skyler’s head, and his vision went black.


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh shit. Oh shit.” A muffled voice was saying. It sounded faint, like Skyler was underwater. His head throbbed.   
Oh. The memory hit him. Oh. Pete and Taylor. Oh.   
He tried to sit up, but that made everything hurt more, so he gave up. It was only then that he realized there was another damn person sitting above him. He tried his best to focus.  
The guy hovering over him looked, what, 20 years old? His hair was a vibrant red, and it was tucked behind his ears in a mess of shocking strands. He was pale, and his nose was like a damn button. It was turned up and scrunched with worry.   
“Shit. You’re awake.” Firetruck-hair sighed. “Fuck, I thought you were fucking dead. You’re alive, holy shit.” Firetruck had cursed exactly six times. Skyler smiled, despite himself.   
“Yeah. I. Yeah.” He shook his head. “Those are, um. They’re these, kind of, these thugs, I guess? They go to my school. And, um, I think they were trying to take my money.”  
“Oh god, shit, I’m so sorry.” He said. They were silent for a second before Firetruck realized something.   
“Whoa, you need an ambulance! Sorry, oh my god. I was just trying to make sure you were alive, and-- Oh my god.” He pulled out a black iPhone (it was heavily decorated with David Bowie stickers) and punched three digits into it.  
“Hi.” Firetruck said, his voice thick with worry. “Um, yeah, I-- I just watched this kid get beat up by some other teenagers. It was really bad. Um, I’m with the kid now. He’s conscious and he’s speaking fine, but his injuries look really bad.” Skyler was silent as Firetruck gave the street and a description of their alleyway to the other end of the phone. He was silent as he hung up. And they were silent and the only thing that broke that spell was the telltale wail of sirens in the distance. Skyler didn’t say another word to him as he was piled onto a stretcher. Firetruck handed him his backpack and gave him a reassuring smile and he was pulled into the white haze of the ambulance. He gave Firetruck a slight wave, and the car sped away before he had a chance to say a thank you or goodbye or or or.  
Skyler’s whole world, it seemed, revolved around other people caring for him.

//

“Yeah. Skyler Sharp.” Sky was telling the officer as much as he could without passing out again.  
“Okay, okay.” The officer’s frenzied pencil worked at his notebook. “Yeah, and we’ve got your mom’s number, okay. We’ll call her as soon as we’re done here.”  
Skyler sighed. His jaw ached.  
“Okay, and-- These kids. Okay, their names?”   
“Pete Wentz and Taylor Swift. They go to my school, Washington Valley High. My school will have a lot of information on them.”  
“Okay, okay.” The officer scribbled it down.   
“They’re-- Taylor’s about 5’11”? She wears a lot of black. Curly blonde hair.” Skyler described. “And Pete, he’s short. 5’6”. He has this black hair with, like, streaks of red. He has a bright pink hoodie. It’s pretty noticeable.”   
The officer’s pencil was flying. Skyler wanted to sleep.  
“Okay, cool, cool. Here, let me call your mom.” The officer’s fast speech and the screech of tires on asphalt made Skyler’s head spin. The phone rang twice before Stacy Sharp’s clear drawl came through.  
“Uh, hi?”  
“Hello, is this Stacy Sharp?” The officer asked.  
“Speaking.” She sounded confused.  
“We’re in the ambulance with your son, Skyler. He was jumped on his way to school. He doesn’t have any extreme injuries, but we wanted to let you know.”  
The line was silent.  
“Ma’am?”  
“What?” She hissed, incredulous. “What? Is he awake? Is he here? Can I talk to him?”  
“He’s right here, ma’am.” The officer passed Skyler the phone.  
“Hey, Mom.” He said wearily.  
“Oh my god. Skyler. Where are your injuries?”  
“Um, I don’t-- It’s kind of, like, my jaw. Mosty my jaw.”  
“God.” She sighed. “Can you still perform?”  
He tensed. “Uh, I. I don’t know how bad they are yet.”  
“Shit.” She hissed. “This is going to ruin our reputation, I swear--”  
“Mom. It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” He said. “I have to go. I love you.”  
“Right, okay.” She sounded distracted. “You too.”  
Skyler was allowed a peaceful five minutes of sleep before the car screeched to a stop. He was piled back onto his stiff stretcher and bumped into the white hospital with it’s yellow lights and constant air of frenzy. His eyes were half-lidded and the light flickered through them, and he was set down on a white table in a white room with white lights and white blinds. He inhaled the gas they gave them and watched the needle flit soundlessly through his skin and fell asleep again.

//

“Bro.” A soft voice said. It sounded too far away. “Hey. Bro.”  
Skyler’s chest rose and fell. There was a sharp stinging in his chin. He felt numb.  
“Bro? Are you, like, dead? Because I swear,” The voice insisted. “Don’t be dead. Bro. Bro.”  
Skyler opened his eyes.   
The room was a shocking white. His pupils focused on one familiar thing: Jay Rivera.  
“Hey, bro.” He managed weakly.  
“So.” Jay sat down beside the hospital bed. “First things first. I’m glad you’re alive!” He grinned brightly.  
“That’s the nicest thing someone’s said to me all day.”   
Jay smiled winningly. “And secondly. Taylor Swift and Pete Wentz?”   
Skyler sighed. “Yeah. In, like, this alleyway. They beat me up in an alleyway.”   
Jaden’s brow creased with worry. “Why?”  
Sky shrugged, shaking his head. “They said they wanted my money or something gangster like that. But, I mean, I think it was just because I’m a Sharp. They-- I don’t know, man. It’s not good.”   
Jay sighed. “And, like, who found you?”  
“There was… I don’t know. Some guy called an ambulance, and I got stitches here,” he tapped his chin, “and here I am now. With my homie.”  
“Aww!” Jay placed his hands on his heart. “Bro!”  
“Bro.” Skyler smiled.   
Jay stayed there most of the day, informing him of the School Drama™ and bringing him food. His mom didn’t call him or visit him. Surprise. 

//

“Sky.” His mom was shaking his shoulders, her acrylic nails digging into them.  
“I’m listening.” He assured her.   
“Good, okay.” There was panic in her voice, and Skyler knew not to upset her when she was like this.  
“You know what you’re doing, right?” She asked him.  
“Yes.” He nodded solidly. “Back walkover, five flips, back walkover.”  
“Good.” She hissed. “Even if your stomach hurts from the hospital. You have to do this, Sky. For me.”  
“I get it, Mom. Thanks.” He shrugged her hands off and jogged down the hallway. Part of him ached with the fact that she valued the cheer competitions more than his health. Another part of him expected it.   
“Sky!” A pitchy voice called from behind her. He sighed. Rose.  
“Skyler! Welcome back!” He turned around just as she flew into his arms.  
The wind was knocked out of him, and he wheezed as he flew backwards. Rose grabbed his shoulders to steady him.  
“Holy crappola, you were jumped?” She asked, brown eyes wide and full of concern.  
“Yeah, I--” He coughed, holding his stomach. “You just… Sorry, you just really startled me.”   
“It’s fine. Just tell me what happened.” She demanded persistently.   
“I… It was Pete Wentz and Taylor Swift. They jumped me, like, in an alleyway.”  
“Why?” She hissed.  
“I-- I don’t know. Sorry.”  
“Come on, you have to know something--”  
“Skyler, bro!” A new voice called.   
Jay jogged down the hallway, stopping in front of Rose and Sky.  
“Sorry, Rose, I think I gotta grab Sky. It’s a training thing.”   
She pouted, putting a hand on her hip. “Fine.”   
Skyler stopped himself from glaring at her.  
“I’ll see you soon, Sky! Like, after the competition.”  
He nodded slightly and grabbed Jay’s hand.   
“Skyler! You have to remember to meet me after the competition, please, I need to catch up with you, and--”  
“Sure!” He called, letting Jay pull him out of the hallway. As soon as they were out of her vicinity, Skyler breathed a sigh of relief.   
“She’s fucking insane, man.”  
“I know. She’s really into you, bro. Like, way too into you.”  
He nodded stiffly. “Whatever, bro.”  
“Bro, girls are dangerous. You gotta watch out, man.”  
“Why are you so worried, man?”  
“I just don’t want to lose you to some girl, bro.” Jay said. They were silent for a moment. “No homo.”  
The competition went on like every other. Someone won, someone lost, and around ten girls came up to him to take pictures. Getting jumped had pretty much been the most interesting thing that had happened to him, but the attention he’d got from it was wearing off quickly. His life went on like usual for the next month. School. Competitions. School. Competitions. School. Competitions. It blurred into a dull cycle.  
And then there was prom.  
People were #hyped about it. Like, way too hyped. It was early May, and he’d already had to decline 10 prom proposals. He has counted. So when Rose had grabbed his hand and asked to Talk To Him After School, he merely sighed. It was so hard, being a rich popular kid.  
Right now, though, he was seriously worried for the circulation of his hand. Rose’s perfectly manicured fingernails were digging into his wrist as she pulled him from their English classroom.  
“Rose, why are you--”  
“Shh.” She cut him off, marching steadily towards the entrance of Washington Valley High School. Skyler sighed.   
Rose finally stopped them behind a dumpster, apparently oblivious to the scent. She grinned at him widely.  
“Okay, I know this isn’t the most glorious place to ask this, but,” She dropped to one knee, pulling a tiny black box out of the pocket of her jeans.   
“Will you go to prom with me?” She opened the box, and an incredible tacky plastic silver ring glared up at him.   
Skyler was speechless.  
“Um.”  
“I know it’s beautiful. I got it for three dollars at the student store!” Her false eyelashes fluttered excitedly.  
“Wow. Rose. Wow.” Skyler shook his head. “This is… Wow.”  
“So that’s a yes?” She grinned.  
“What? Oh. I mean, I…” He trailed off. Her rose face beamed up at him.  
“This… This is super sweet. Um, that you got me this.” He started.   
“Okay?”  
“But I… Uh, I already have a prom date.” The words flew from his mouth before he could stop himself.  
She raised an eyebrow. “Who?”  
“Um.” Shit. Who? Who the hell was he going to take to prom?  
Who who who. His head was cloudy with panic.   
“I, uh… Jaden.” He said the first name he could think of and instantly regretted it.   
“Jaden?”  
“Rivera. Jaden Rivera. He’s my prom date.” He cringed on the word ‘date,’ resisting the urge to say “no homo, though.”  
She studied him for a moment, frowning. She smiled, then frowned again, then smiled, apparently decided that it was a genuine answer.   
“Oh my God!” Her voice heightened an octave. “That’s so fucking cute, oh my God!”   
“What?” He was taken aback.  
“That’s so cute. Oh my God.” She grinned widely, fluttering her fingers in front of her face. “I’m freaking out, oh my God.”  
“Yeah.” He smiled dumbly. “It, uh, it is.”  
She squealed and waved her hands. “I’m gonna go write fanfiction about you guys.”  
His stomach twisted violently.  
“Um, I haven’t actually... I haven’t actually proposed to him. So could you... Could you just not tell anyone? It’s supposed to be a surprise.”  
Recognition sparked behind her eyes and she nodded, smiling. “Your secret’s safe with me.”


End file.
